Jordan found Nadia by the long glass table near the interns' workspace. She was scrolling through research articles, her brow slightly furrowed in concentration.
"Hey, Nadia," he said softly.
She looked up, her face brightening. "Jordan."
"I drafted an outline for our presentation this week," he continued, sliding his tablet toward her. "It's just a structural skeleton for now. Nothing final."
Nadia skimmed it quickly, nodding. "I actually did some research too. Turns out we'll need to apply data analysis. A lot more than I expected."
Jordan's lips curved faintly. "That's something we can handle."
She tilted her head. "You sound very confident."
"I am," he replied. "You focus more on the talky-talky part. I'll work on the analysis and modeling. We'll probably have to refine it more than once, but don't worry. Just focus on your side. In the end, we'll go through everything together and make it airtight."
Nadia studied him for a second, then smiled. "Okay. I like how calm you make this sound."
"I'm not calm," he said lightly. "I just hate panic."
She laughed softly. "Fair enough."
"I'll be back in a jiffy," he added, already turning away.
Liam looked up from his desk when Jordan approached.
"Jordan. What's good?"
"Quite alright, sir."
"Preparing for the big day?"
"It's getting close," Jordan said. "Faster than I expected."
"Just a few days now," Liam replied. "So what brings you here?"
"I wanted you to sign this. It's from Sarah."
"Oh." Liam took the document. "Alright."
He signed it and handed it back.
Jordan stepped into the corridor, already tucking the paper into the folder—
And then he stopped.
Vivienne Cross was walking toward him.
His gaze betrayed him before his discipline could catch up.
The clean line of her dress.
The way the fabric hugged her waist.
The quiet authority in her stride.
Then her eyes.
Then, involuntarily, her lips.
He stiffened, blinking once, forcing his eyes back to neutral.
"Um…" he muttered.
Vivienne slowed to a stop in front of him. "Jordan, you okay?"
He inhaled. "Actually, no— I mean, yes."
Her mouth twitched.
She folded her arms lightly. "You look like your brain just crashed."
He swallowed. "Just… distracted."
She studied him for a beat longer than necessary.
Then: "Looks like you aren't occupied."
"No, I just—"
"Follow me."
The word wasn't sharp.
It was quiet. Controlled.
And somehow heavier than a command.
Her office smelled faintly of vanilla and cold air.
"Have your seat," Vivienne said, walking past him.
Jordan sat, his posture rigid, his attention already overstimulated.
She placed a stack of files in front of him. Then a laptop.
"There are some files encrypted on this system," she said. "I want you to check these papers and see if you can replace some of the encrypted files with what these documents entail."
He nodded. "Alright, ma'am."
He started working.
Two minutes in, his jaw tightened.
Four minutes in, his fingers slowed.
Six minutes in, his eyes darkened.
"Um… ma'am?"
She didn't look up. "Yes?"
"I'd actually prefer you call me Ms. Cross," she added casually. "You're making me feel old."
He blinked. "Huh? I'm sorry— Ms. Cross."
She waved it off.
"Is this a personal laptop of yours?" he asked quietly.
Her gaze sharpened. "Why?"
"Someone else has access to your files."
"That's not possible."
He hesitated. "Oh. Well."
That got her attention.
She stood.
And came closer.
He explained the trojan. The sophistication. The stealth.
She leaned against the desk beside him, watching his hands fly over the keyboard.
The quiet dominance in his movements unsettled her.
"You didn't even hesitate," she murmured.
"It's high-level," he replied. "You wouldn't notice it unless you were looking for something wrong before anything went wrong."
"And you were."
"Yes."
Her eyes traced his profile.
His jaw.
The tension in his shoulders.
"He's frighteningly intelligent," she thought.
And I shouldn't be surprised. I read his file.
"And it's done," Jordan said quietly. "I set up a layered lock. No one else is getting in."
She tilted her head. "Except you?"
His fingers froze.
He looked up at her.
"I wouldn't do that."
The air shifted.
She smiled faintly. "Just relax."
He finished the work she'd asked for and stood.
"Anything else, Ms. Cross?"
"No. That'll be all."
He nodded and left.
Jordan locked himself inside the restroom.
Cold water. Face. Sink.
He stared at his reflection.
"What was that?" he muttered. "You can't be staring at her like that."
He gripped the edge of the sink.
"She's your boss. You don't need this. You've got a second chance at life, man."
His jaw tightened.
"Don't fucking blow it."